PhineasFlash25's THE DARK KNIGHT STRIKES AGAIN!
by PhineasFlash25
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight Strikes Again, The Dark Knight Returns, or the DC Universe. This is a fanfiction so PLEASE DON'T SUE ME. So, I've decided to write my own version of the Dark Knight Strikes Again. The real thing had potential, and some cool ideas, it's the execution that made it suck. This is how I think it should have went. I hope you like it. :)
1. Chapter 1

**PhineasFlash25's**

 **THE DARK KNIGHT**

 **STRIKES AGAIN!**

 **A Fanfiction by PhineasFlash25**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight Strikes Again, The Dark Knight Returns, or the DC Universe. This is a fanfiction so PLEASE DON'T SUE ME.**

 **After reading the actual sequel to Frank Miller's more acclaimed The Dark Knight Returns, I concluded that The Dark Knight Strikes Again had a lot of potential, and some genuinely cool ideas going for it. The basic premise of the novel (Lex Luthor having taken over the world, and DKR Batman must reunite his old superhero allies to stage a revolution) is a very cool premise. It's the EXECUTION of the premise, and all these little choices Frank Miller made throughout (plus the crazy art) that threw me and a whole bunch of other people off.**

 **So, I've decided to write my own fanfic version of The Dark Knight Strikes Again. I hope you enjoy it. :)**

 _ **"I spent ten years, searching for a good death, but this…**_

 _ **This will be a good Life…**_

 _ **… Good enough…"**_

 **\- Bruce Wayne**

 **Chapter 1:**

 **Carrie Kelly briefly wondered how she ever got here. Ten years ago, she was trapped in a small, putrid apartment, with two pathetic, lousy excuses for parents. All they ever did was sit their fat behinds on the sofa, complain about whatever's on the news, and burn their gray-matter away with those street drugs. Did they even miss her? Did they even know she was missing? Did they even remember she existed? Carrie promised herself long ago that if SHE ever had children, she would at LEAST give them the time of day.**

 **Ten years ago, she was going to the cheapest of schools, learning things she knew she would just forget over summer and never need again. Back then, she and her friend, Michelle, were always studying together, desperate to not fall behind in algebra, and never had time to just relax. Every day after school, she'd rush back to the apartment as fast as possible. It was a long run home, but she never took the subway. And during the summer, she stayed indoors, but not to avoid the heat…**

 **Ten years ago, if you asked her what she would do and where she'd go after she graduated, her answer would always be the same: leave Gotham-City, and never, EVER come back.**

 **Ten years ago, Gotham-City was the worst place in America you could possibly be. In a city already notorious for having a strong, tenacious criminal element, crime rates were at an all-time high. Every day, people were stabbed to death and robbed in the subways. Every night, muggers and rapists stalked the streets.**

 **Ten years ago, the people of Gotham were terrorized and attacked by the Mutant-Gang. Hundreds of sadistic teenagers, running rampant through the city like they owned the place. Stealing, raping, and killing in the name of a monster of a man, the Mutant Leader responsible for so much fear and death.**

 **Ten years ago, Gotham was at it's lowest point. Nobody was safe, and nobody dared stand up for the innocent and helpless. It was a city devoid of hope, crippled by indifference, and ruled by evil.**

 **But then the Dark Knight returned, and that all changed.**

 **Just shortly after Carrie had been born, the champions of the world were betrayed by those they swore to protect and serve. The ungrateful and envious masses blamed them for things they had no control over, criticized them for standing for what's right instead of what's popular, and in the end, the heroes lost. The American government demanded they either sign up to be super-soldiers, to fight their wars for them, or retire and never be heard from again.**

 **One of those heroes that retired was the Batman. The Dark Knight, a notorious vigilante who prowled the streets and rooftops of Gotham-City, protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty. With the guise and iconography of a bat, and the skills and arsenal of a one-man-army, he struck fear into the hearts of criminals, but unfortunately, in the people as well. He upset and angered too many people. They called him a lunatic, a fascist, a terrorist, and much more. When the Batman retired, people believed Gotham would be better off without him.**

 **They were wrong.**

 **In his absence, Gotham descended back to the lawless cesspool of a city that it used to be, infested with crime and corruption more than ever before. And so, the Batman came back to set things right. He destroyed the Mutant Gang, defeating and humiliating their leader, stopping crime dead in it's tracks. Many citizens, including Carrie herself, were relieved and grateful for the Batman's heroism. But the authorities were a much different story.**

 **The police, the Mayor, and the rest of those in power were embarrassed by the actions of the Batman. Where they failed, he succeeded. When the authorities couldn't keep crime in check at all, Batman sent criminals running scared. When a country-wide blackout caused mass panic, riots, looting, and more, Batman imposed martial-law, and for a time made Gotham the safest city in America. They wanted Batman dead.**

 **After receiving countless angry letters asking for the Batman's arrest, and the public outraged over the continuous governmental blunders, the President of the United States could no longer ignore it. He decided to send America's greatest hero to put a stop to the caped crusader… Superman.**

 **Superman, the most powerful and righteous superhero of them all, had reluctantly agreed to the American government's demands, back when the Metahuman Registration and Licensing Act was passed. The deal was that Superman had to reveal his secret identity, agree to serve America's interests when called upon, and act with complete invisibility, and in return, he can continue his hero-work with the government's consent. His latest assignment was to bring in his old friend.**

 **And after a final, epic duel between the World's Finest, The Dark Knight at last died… Or so everybody thought.**

 **Now, Carrie Kelly was down in the Cave… the dark, endless cave with swarms of chattering Gotham-Ghost Bats, a species unique to Gotham. The cave with layers upon layers of shadows, and only the faintest of light coming from the pale-blue fluorescent lamps lining the dark gray stone walls. It was a massive labyrinth of grottos, tunnels, and catacombs running beneath the city, silent and shut off from the surface world. Perfect for traversing Gotham unseen and unheard, hidden beneath people's very feet. Perfect for watching over them like silent ghosts, like a legion of guardian angels.**

 **Looming before Carrie was the new Batcomputer. The nerve-center of their entire operation. Three widescreen monitors lit the room. Beneath them, a large keypad, dozens of extra buttons, levers and switches, lights blinking blue and red and yellow. Surround-sound speakers, massive databanks and memory-drives, and the most advanced AI software available, it was the most advanced computer within a thousand miles. The monitor on the left displayed security-footage, stats, their operation schedule, and all data relating to their vigilante-organization and secret HQ. The right monitor showed internet files, public records, Television networks, national government databases, and satellite images and maps. The monitor in the middle, displayed footage from hundreds of security cameras hidden throughout the city, as well as footage from the standard-issue bodycams on her troops. NOTHING happened in Gotham-City without their notice.**

 **Before, the Batman ran across rooftops alone, prowled the streets in his Batmobile, and operated rather openly. But today, things must be done differently. More quietly. It's like Oliver, that strange old man with the missing left-arm once said:**

 **"Sure, you play it mysterious, but it's a noisy kind of mysterious. You draw too much attention to yourself. Always have. You, Bruce… Man, you they _have_ to kill."**

 **But now, after faking his death and going underground, their operation is a much quieter kind of mysterious. Invisible. Before, the Batman's activities were loud and open, drawing both the attention and the hate of the people and authorities. But you can't hate someone or something if you don't know it even exists. Ignorance is bliss.**

 **Since going underground, Batman and young Carrie Kelly, formerly known as Robin, now going by the call sign Batgirl, have raised a small army of vigilantes, working from the shadows, keeping Gotham safe. Dozens of promising young men, many of which were once members of the notorious Mutant Gang, now pledge their lives to learning and following the ways of the Batman. They travel through the cave tunnels under Gotham, and seek out crimes in progress. They move in, they strike hard, and they vanish without a trace.**

 **As Carrie watched the center monitor of the Batcomputer, overseeing their latest mission, her mind briefly wondered off again. Batman, their commander-in-chief, had recently left Gotham-City, and had trusted her to keep an eye on things while he was gone. She was in charge now, and she did not intend to disappoint.**

 **"Batgirl!"**

 **It was Lieutenant Victor Kowalski, the field leader of the current mission on the Batcomputer's encrypted radio comms.**

 **"Status report, Soldier."**

 **"We got a location. It's Arkham Asylum!"**


	2. Chapter 2

**PhineasFlash25's**

 **THE DARK KNIGHT**

 **STRIKES AGAIN!**

 **A Fanfiction by PhineasFlash25**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight Strikes Again, The Dark Knight Returns, or the DC Universe. This is a fanfiction so PLEASE DON'T SUE ME.**

 **After reading the actual sequel to Frank Miller's more acclaimed The Dark Knight Returns, I concluded that The Dark Knight Strikes Again had a lot of potential, and some genuinely cool ideas going for it. The basic premise of the novel (Lex Luthor having taken over the world, and DKR Batman must reunite his old superhero allies to stage a revolution) is a very cool premise. It's the EXECUTION of the premise, and all these little choices Frank Miller made throughout (plus the crazy art) that threw me and a whole bunch of other people off.**

 **So, I've decided to write my own fanfic version of The Dark Knight Strikes Again. I hope you enjoy it. :)**

 **Chapter 2:**

 **James Olsen watched the television in disgust. Not much else he COULD do though, while he was under house-arrest for the second time this year. They really upped the security this time around. Before, they just put the damn tracking bracelet on his ankle, shoved him into his apartment, locked the doors and watched from a distance. They hoped he would lead them to his anonymous friends, or that his friends would come for him, but James was no idiot, and neither were the people he associated with. He knew that if he tried to escape, that if he tried to tamper with the tracker or send a message to the Underground, they'd find out, and he'd be in more trouble, so he just waited it out. Eventually, those filthy Gestapo thugs gave up, and just let him go.**

 **But now, they slapped two tracking bracelets on him, one on his right ankle, the other around his neck, as if they were collaring a mad dog. They put several security cameras in his apartment, reinforced the doors and windows with electrified prison bars, and always had four armed guards watching his every move inside the apartment with him. It was barely an apartment anymore! They might as well just throw him in Stryker's Island, like all the other "dissidents". And they probably would, if it wasn't for what they suspected he had sealed away in his brain…**

 **The first time he was caught breaking the law, they made the mistake of letting him go. They suspected that he might be up to more "subversive behavior", but when nothing else was found, they released him without bothering to use their "corrective measures" to insure he stayed out of trouble. They assumed that two months of house-arrest was enough to keep him in his place.**

 **But now, they won't make that mistake again. One crime may just be a glitch, a very minor anomaly that can be easily solved with a reality check. Breaking the law once is forgivable, but TWICE is a genuine and explicit challenge of authority.**

 **This time, they won't let it happen again. This time if James doesn't eventually give in, when their patience expires, he won't be walking "free". When his house-arrest is over, they will break him, and they will get what they want the hard way.**

 **Such is the protocol of this "new Golden-Age of American peace and prosperity." As the television began displaying the morning news, James sipped his mug of coffee, placed it on its coaster, and fell back in his recliner, with a groan.**

 **"GOOOOOD Morning Metropolis! I'm G. Gordon Godfrey, and this is the Godfrey News Network!"**

 **James cursed under his breath. He HATED Godfrey, more than anyone else in the world. HE made all this possible! HE rallied the country against the heroes, all those years ago. If it wasn't for HIM, none of this bullcrap would be happening. And now there he was, anchor of GNN, the biggest news channel in the country, feeding them all whatever stupid lies and propaganda this loathsome regime tells him to.**

 **"Today marks the ten-year anniversary of the Pax Americana! Ten years ago, our country was viciously attacked by the Soviet Union, with an EMP missile that set off a country-wide blackout. Our great nation was thrust back into the Dark Ages, our cities plunged into chaos. And the Presidential-Administration was failing to restore peace and order. But then, The Regime stepped in, and used their great wisdom and vision to save our great country from collapse…"**

 **"Oh yeah!" James spat with indignation, "Problem solved, by creating many, many, MANY new problems! And of course, no mention of all the people they killed, or the rights they've taken away!"**

 **One of the house-arrest guards hit James in the head with the butt of his gun. "Quiet, Mr. Olsen. Aren't you in enough trouble already?"**

 **G. Gordon Godfrey continued to kiss the Regime's butt. He praised the Intelligence Compilation Union, or the appropriately abbreviated I.C.U., for collecting, monitoring, and controlling all digital information & public records throughout the country, and using it to spy on ordinary citizens and target anyone with non-secular, suggestive, and "treasonous ideologies". In the last five years, tens of thousands of people have been arrested, branded as dissidents, and sent to the Stryker's Island Correctional Facility. When they came out, they were unrecognizable, apathetic. But some never do come out…**

 **Godfrey also celebrated the "Freedom From Religion Act", and the burning of churches and all the "superstitious vermin" who used to attend them. James' grandfather was a devout Christian, and he was one of the greatest men he ever knew. NOBODY deserved what was done to the Christians of America, least of all him. The Regime claimed that they were killed because they were weakening the country with their "primitive delusions", but James knew better. They were killed because they stood up to this secular, egotistical dictatorship.**

 **Sadly, most people are either fooled by, or silenced by this oppressive despotism. And every day, GNN spreads lies and propaganda like rats spread the Bubonic Plague.**

 **"…And now, on to the daily announcements, from the President of the United States!"**

 **The television cut to live footage of a pedestal at the front of the White House. And there she stood. Harmony Creighton, the despicable despot of what used to be the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave. She sneered at the camera with all the smug, condescending attitude she could muster. James wanted to puke. Godfrey was still the person he hated most, but Harmony was a very, very close second.**

 **"Look alive, America," she said with that obnoxious smile, "because we're living in a Golden Age for our nation! Now, I know that it's taken some doing…"**

 **"Hmmf! Yeah, 'some doing,'" James muttered, "Like repealing the Constitution!"**

 **"…But things are now brighter than ever! The state of the Union is strong…"**

 **"Oh, it's strong all right… Like an IRON FIST!"**

 **"…Our streets are peaceful and flawless. Our children are living in a nation free of crime…"**

 **"Our children are living in a damn POLICE STATE!"**

 **"…The bureaucracy that once tainted and slowed the actions of the administration is a thing of the past…"**

 **"Of course, it is! You've KILLED everybody that disagrees with you!"**

 **Suddenly, without warning, James' collar crackled with electricity, and his nervous system cried out in agony. The guard that reprimanded him earlier barked, "Shut up, Mr. Olsen. Keep this up and your sentence will be doubled!"**

 **Harmony praised herself for another few minutes. Then, as feeling returned to James' brutalized body, she moved on to endorsing her latest gimmick for expanding her power…**

 **"And don't forget the be there for the grand re-opening of the Big-Belly Burger food-chain, now under new management!"**

 **"Why? So that you can fatten us up and addict us to whatever mind-control drugs you've snuck into those burgers?! Thanks, but no thanks! You may have the rest of this stinking country fooled, you insufferable harpy, but not me! I'm on to you, do you hear me? I'M ON TO YOU!"**

 **With that, James Olsen went berserk. He leapt out of his chair, threw over the coffee table, and assaulted the guards. He knew he had no chance of beating them, much less getting out alive, but he didn't care. He just couldn't take it anymore.**

 **It didn't take long for the guards to restrain him. Once again, James' collar shocked his nerves, this time with even more intensity. He dropped to the floor, lying prostrate and groaning with pain and seething with hatred.**

 **"Don't you mindless drones remember how it USED to be? You may not remember them, they may have told you they never even EXISTED, but this world used to have HEROES, beings of incredible power, of unwavering courage, and they used stop evil in its tracks time and again…"**

 **James broke into tears. More than anything else, he wanted them back. He wanted HIM back. Clark. His old pal. HE would save him. He would save ALL of them.**

 **He remembered the day that his watch stopped working. The wristwatch Clark gave him, all those years ago. He remembered the day he pushed the bright red button, and the inaudible hum reached out, calling for his old friend. He remembered waiting, waiting for him to come to his rescue, just in the nick of time, like the good old days…**

 **James' eyes were gushing with a river of tears now. With all his rage, conviction, desperation, and absolute grief, he screamed at the top of his lungs.**

 **"Where are they now?! WHERE ARE OUR HEROES!"**


	3. Chapter 3

**PhineasFlash25's**

 **THE DARK KNIGHT**

 **STRIKES AGAIN!**

 **A Fanfiction by PhineasFlash25**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight Strikes Again, The Dark Knight Returns, or the DC Universe. This is a fanfiction so PLEASE DON'T SUE ME.**

 **After reading the actual sequel to Frank Miller's more acclaimed The Dark Knight Returns, I concluded that The Dark Knight Strikes Again had a lot of potential, and some genuinely cool ideas going for it. The basic premise of the novel (Lex Luthor having taken over the world, and DKR Batman must reunite his old superhero allies to stage a revolution) is a very cool premise. It's the EXECUTION of the premise, and all these little choices Frank Miller made throughout (plus the crazy art) that threw me and a whole bunch of other people off.**

 **So, I've decided to write my own fanfic version of The Dark Knight Strikes Again. I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Chapter 3:**

 **Arkham Asylum. Gotham-City's notorious mental-health institution for the criminally insane. Founded in the 1890's by Dr. Amadeus Arkham, who eventually became a patient in his own asylum, it's history has been one of tragedy since the very beginning. With its macabre, gothic exterior appearance, and the bleak and gloomy hallways running within, Arkham looks more like a haunted house than a place of medicine. In the old days, few attempts of rehabilitation were truly successful, and patient breakouts were frequent, as well as riots. People were more likely to get worse than better, and a few of the doctors and staff, like the asylum's founder himself, lost their own minds to the house's menacing maze of madness.**

 **Because of this, several years ago the asylum was shut down and abandoned. A new mental-health facility later opened, called the Arkham Home for the Emotionally Troubled, which showed significantly more success. But since the rise of the Regime, the old Arkham building has been acquired for a classified government project. Nobody who valued their lives dared to ask what they were doing behind those cryptic walls, and the Regime never bothered to make up a cover story, but they reassured the public that it was "A very important matter of national security."**

 **That "important matter" being the imprisonment of several of the world's greatest heroes.**

 **In cell 211, an elderly man sat down, his forehead pressed to his knees, and tears rolling down his cheeks. His name was Ray Palmer, and he was trapped, sealed in a glass jar, butt-naked and shrunk down to the size of a pea. The cell was pitch black, and he was always cold. Long ago, he was a brilliant scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs who had discovered a way to shrink or enlarge objects, and even people. He became the Atom, one of the Justice League's reserve members. But now he was nothing. Imprisoned by his own technology. Without his suit, he can't grow back to human-size, and he will be forever confined in a glass jar, like a child's pet caterpillar, and discarded in a cold, dark prison-cell.**

 **In the next cell over, another hero of yesteryear was suffering a claustrophobic's worst nightmare. Squeezed into a tight ball, sealed in an airtight box reinforced with countless security measures and neural-dampeners, his brain was prohibited to a constant state of unconsciousness, unable to command the inconceivably-versatile tool that was his body. Patrick "Eel" O'Brien. Plastic-Man.**

 **In yet another cell, a woman was slowly dying. Much like another great hero, she came to Earth from the stars, seeking refuge. She saved lives, and worked hard to fit in. But her deeds were repaid with abuse, imprisonment, starvation, and darkness. It was no way to treat a woman, let alone royalty. And if light does not shine through to her, Starfire will flicker out.**

 **In the cell across from Starfire, an old friend lies strapped to a table, his artificial limbs ripped off and scrapped, his titanium and promethium armor removed, and his built-in weapons disarmed. He was a head and torso stuck in a metal shell, strapped down with no way of getting out. He used to be one of the toughest guys around, but these days, Victor E. Stone, aka the Cyborg, was feeling pretty pathetic.**

 **In the last cell at the end of the hallway, roars, barks, screeches, howls, hisses, and other angry bestial sounds reverberated across the asylum. A wild animal of a man was scratching, scratching, scratching against the cell door, furiously clawing to break free. Once upon a time, back when they were brash adolescents, he, Cyborg, Starfire, and a few others were a team of young heroes. More than a team, they were lifelong friends. The Teen Titans. But those days now seemed like a lifetime ago. The cantankerous creature howled in despair. Arkham Asylum had broken him. His mind had snapped, and with it, his powers. His body was in a state of flux, continuously morphing between all the different species in the animal kingdom. The only constant was his color; Green. The color of life, now the color of sickness. Thanks to Arkham Asylum, the man once known as Beast-Boy was sick in the head.**

 **Dozens more were similarly locked away and tortured. Dozens of good and righteous men and women condemned to a living nightmare. Dozens of heroes lost. Robbed of hope.**

 **But that was about to change.**

 **Six hours ago, Carrie Kelly and her lieutenants gathered together in the Batcave's war-room to prep for their next field-mission. Eighteen hours before that, they had successfully infiltrated Gotham City-Hall, broke into the Mayor's office, attained the intel they were looking for, and exited without leaving so much as a file out of place on the Mayor's desk. The intel revealed the location where these former heroes were being held. Arkham Asylum. Now that they knew where their target was, they were ready to strike.**

 **The Revolution had begun.**

 **Now, lurking right beneath the feet of the asylum guards, a black-ops unit patiently waited for the right moment. The abandoned catacombs beneath Arkham were connected to the endless network of subterranean tunnels that the Bat-Army used to navigate Gotham undetected. The Bat-Army, headed by Carrie Kelly, got into their positions and awaited Carrie's orders.**

 **Carrie stood up and looked around. She and her troops were all suited up in black military uniforms. To avoid being identified by the authorities, they stopped wearing the obvious and distinct batsuits and started using uniforms and disguises that were more ambiguous. They all conducted last-minute equipment checks, making sure that all their smoke-bombs and sedative-tipped-shurikens were ready and functional. Their comm-devices were encrypted and working, their starlite-goggles fully operational. All their watches were synchronized, and they had already tapped into the surveillance cameras. Everybody had their parts down, every exit strategy had been plotted, and every valuable was calculated down to the smallest decimal point. They were ready.**

 **Carrie reached down into her backpack and pulled out the detonator. Dozens of mines had been placed in key points along the catacombs. When they go off, several hallways and the security control room will all cave-in, and the guards will be neutralized.**

 **Without wasting any more time, Carrie raised the detonator up, and pushed the red button.**

 **It all happened in just ten seconds. The Guards at Arkham were going through the motions of their daily routine, a monotonous, robotic system of marching down the gloomy halls and standing vigilant at their posts. And then without warning, the Asylum hallways suddenly trembled with dozens of booming, thunderous sounds beneath them. Before any of them could take in what was happening, they were falling into the cold limestone labyrinth down below. Like a Siamese Tiger-Trap, the floors collapsed to reveal a shadowy abyss, danger waiting for them at the bottom.**

 **The guards were quickly and quietly subdued, and the troops climbed out of the chasms, like demons crawling out of the bowels of Hell. They covered all corners and rooms where other guards may be hiding. Soldiers planted themselves at the front door and alternative entrances and exits, sentinels ready to fend off any Regime pawns and hold the line. Two minutes into the operation, and Arkham Asylum has become an Alamo. Only this Alamo won't fall. Not until the heroes are liberated.**

 **Meanwhile, in the city of Metropolis, a separate resistance movement has met far more disastrous results. The appropriately-named Suicide-Slum was a filthy hive of disgruntled and resentful men and women, a ghetto cut off from the rest of the city by a 60-foot-tall wall of steel and concrete. Those on the outside were told that the wall was there to protect the good, law-abiding citizens from the criminal element that plagued this district for many years, and while the Suicide Slum was indeed a breeding ground for muggers, drug-dealers and pickpockets even back in the old days, that was hardly the reason the Regime built a barrier around it.**

 **The Suicide-Slum was a petri dish of human test-subjects for the Regime's Advanced-Science department. Every month, soldiers would organize all the Slum's prisoners into rows at the central plaza. Dozens were shipped away to a nearby genetics-laboratory, and never seen again. Dozens more would then be processed in. Those who lived in the Slum were all poor, sickly, and alone with no families. Nobody would miss them. That's what the Regime believed.**

 **But despite their grim scenario, a band of prisoners had plotted to revolt against their tyrannical captors and take back the world piece by piece. Every night before the ghetto's weekly processing ritual, they would all meet at the Ace-O-Clubs, a seedy pub owned by their founder and leader, a salty old seaman named Bo Bibbowski. His friends called him Bibbo.**

 **Before he settled in Metropolis and built the Ace-O-Clubs, Bibbo worked in the U.S. navy back in the second World War and worked on a couple trade ships going here and there. Then one day the latest ship he was serving, The Lori Lemuris, was caught in a furious storm, and he was nearly dragged down to Davy Jones' Locker. But like a guardian angel made flesh, Superman swooped in and saved them all.**

 **Bibbo became Superman's number-one fan. More than a fan, actually. He was good friends with ol' Big Blue. But he wasn't here anymore, hence the evil government imprisoning Bibbo for his advanced age, along with anybody else who they deemed "useless". But even at the withering age of 79, Bibbo still packed a helluva wallop, and took it upon himself to lead the charge against the Regime. He wasn't about to let some pack of bullies push around his people. No. Not his people. Not his town. Together, he and his fellow prisoners would show these fascist scumbags not to mess with Metropolis!**

 **But things didn't quite go according to plan.**

 **Now, in the Ace-O-Clubs, mutilated corpses and broken glass littered the wrecked establishment. Bibbo was pinned to a wall by several lethal blades. A wicked machete impaled his gut, and two knifes pierced through each of his palms, his arms stretched out like the victim of a crucifixion. Blood leaking from his wounds, he groggily lifted his head to gaze upon his executioner.**

 **It was a man, lean and limber, wearing a jet-black bodysuit, complete with red gloves, boots, belt, and a scarlet cape and hood flipped over his head. He was facing away from Bibbo, playing around with a sinister-looking shank in his hand, giggling with sadistic, rabid glee.**

 **This one man, this one, horrible man, singlehandedly massacred Bibbo's entire team of freedom-fighters. They were meeting at the Ace-O-Clubs, like they always did, and were all careful not to be spotted by the soldiers who patrolled the streets at night. They were finally starting to form a strategically sound plot to break into the guard's armory, steal their weapons, and release the Suicide Slum from the Regime's iron grip. And then this… thing, came and absolutely destroyed them, along with Bibbo's hopes for retribution.**

 **He dropped in out of nowhere, without the slightest warning. Before Bibbo could even process what was happening, the Ace-O-Clubs had become a hurricane of blood and guts. Throats slashed, spines shattered, eyes gouged, and innards ripped out in a furious frenzy of maniacal mayhem.**

 **But worst of all was the laugh. His laugh. It echoed across the room, penetrated Bibbo's skull and flooded his mind with dread. It was a high-pitched, demonic cackle that could be heard for miles. It was a laugh that made Bibbo's skin crawl, his heart race, and his bladder erupt. It was a laugh of pure, inconceivable evil.**

 **Such a laugh had not been heard in years, not since…**

 **"NO!" Shouted Bibbo, "You're not the Joker! You CAN'T be the Joker! The Joker's DEAD!"**

 **In response, the killer swerved around to face Bibbo. He raised his gloved hands and flipped the hood off his head. His face was chalk-white like a vampire, and his eyes bloodshot red. His combed-back hair and lips were also red, and his lips peeled back in a sadistic grin, showing off his sharp, filthy teeth.**

 **"Maybe, you're right," he said, looking at Bibbo, licking his chops and casually walking ever closer to his prey. "But if I'm not the Joker…"**

 **Swiftly and brutally, the psychotic assassin thrusted his dagger into Bibbo's throat, grasped his hair, and ripped his head clean off his body, blood spewing out of his neck.**

 **"…Whoever could I be?"**

 **The Killer Clown burst out with his horrible laugh again. When he finally calmed down, he looked at the decapitated head in his hands. What a pathetic excuse for a martyr. He'd seen kittens put up more of a fight than this geezer. What he needed was prey that could bite back. A mission that presented more of a challenge. Something a bit more… exerting.**

 **As if on cue, the mysterious assassin's cell phone started ringing. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. Hopefully his next assignment would be worthier of his time.**

 **"Yeah? Yeah, they're all dead. I got you a trophy!" the strange new Joker lifted up the decapitated head by its hair and took a photo of it on his phone to show his boss. One of his favorite parts of the job was collecting all kinds of disgusting little presents to give the Big Man, souvenirs of all his gory exploits. Last time, he returned with the ripped-out larynx and lungs of Black-Canary, who had been causing some trouble up in Boston. Before that, it was the Guardian's bloodstained golden shield. The Big Man accepted these ghoulish offerings, but the Joker knew he was just trying to seem grateful. No matter, he wasn't doing this for recognition. He abandoned THAT motivation a long time ago.**

 **The man on the phone had a new assignment for him. Unlike his recent killing spree, this one was far more up his alley. A familiar place, and a familiar situation.**

 **"Arkham? A Breakout? Hostages? Unknown subversives?"**

 **The Joker's grin stretched out to gruesome, inhuman proportions.**

 **"Sounds like FUN!"**


	4. Chapter 4

**PhineasFlash25** **'s**

 **THE DARK KNIGHT**

 **STRIKES AGAIN!**

 **A Fanfiction by** **PhineasFlash25**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **The Dark Knight Strikes Again**_ **,** _ **The Dark Knight Returns**_ **, or the DC Universe. This is a fanfiction so PLEASE DON'T SUE ME.**

 **After reading the actual sequel to Frank Miller's more acclaimed** _ **The Dark Knight Returns**_ **, I concluded that** _ **The Dark Knight Strikes Again**_ **had a lot of potential, and some genuinely cool ideas going for it. The basic premise of the novel (Lex Luthor having taken over the world, and DKR Batman must reunite his old superhero allies to stage a revolution) is a very cool premise. It's the EXECUTION of the premise, and all these little choices Frank Miller made throughout (plus the crazy art) that threw me and a whole bunch of other people off.**

 **So, I've decided to write my own fanfic version of** _ **The Dark Knight Strikes Again**_ **. I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Chapter 4:**

" **My name's Carrie Kelly, and if you want payback for the guys who put you here, you'll follow me."**

 **None of the prisoners could say no to that offer. They had all rotted away for years in each of their excruciating cells. They had all prayed for liberation, and now here it was, in all its majesty. Sweet, sweet freedom, ripe for the picking.**

 **Ray Palmer looked up in awe and gratitude. One of the Bat soldiers blasted open the door to his cell. Light burst through as if the gates of Heaven were opening before him.**

 **The soldier crouched down and reached out to grab the jar Ray was still trapped inside. "Hold on tight, Dr. Palmer! We'll resize you when we're back at HQ." Ray did as he was instructed. He bent his knees and stretched out his arms to maintain balance as his glass vessel was lifted off the ground, and carefully stuffed into the soldier's backpack. Ray wished he could be of more assistance, but for now all he could do was go along with whatever his rescuers had planned.**

 **Other captives were being released throughout the facility. A team of troops armed with crowbars, wrenches, and dynamite were hard at work opening another nearby cell and disabling the apparatus that restrained Plastic-Man. It was a small steel cube, just big enough to contain a severed human head, smashed in place by massive hydraulic presses coming out from the walls, floor, and ceiling of the cell. Powerful electric currents surged through the machinery, and loud buzzing noises were made by neural dampeners lining the innards of the box, taming the creature inside.**

 **A few well-placed mines on the cube, and one the soldiers tapped a button on his gauntlet. Suddenly, the buzzing stopped. Then an explosion of red-and-white spandex propelled them back. They fell into the chasm they made to enter the asylum and landed hard on their rears. Meanwhile, a massive blob of rubbery flesh swirled around, and reconstituted itself into a man. he was wearing a scarlet leotard with white boots, gloves, and belt. He had a lean build, swirly black hair, matching white goggles with bug-eyed black lenses, and a dopey grin to complete his comical appearance. Plastic-Man stretched out his arms to superhuman lengths, bent back, and warped his mouth into a big wide circular hole, letting out a massive yawn.**

 **"BOY, IS IT GOOD THE BE OUTTA THERE!"**

 **Carrie Kelly overlooked the release of each prisoner. They freed Starfire, who looked withered and pale, in desperate need of food and sunlight. Cyborg was carried out of his cell by two soldiers, who bickered with each other about who would have to lug him all the way back to the cave. Things were moving along nicely, but in any minute the authorities will be knocking on the asylum doors. They had to be quick.**

 **Finally, Beast-Boy erupted from his cage, mania rushing out in furious barks and howls. He looked nothing like the photograph in his dossier. In fact, he didn't look like any one thing. He was a swirling green amalgamation of all kinds of animals, his form constantly shifting. As the creature calmed down, his perpetual transformations slowed to a crawl. He had green fur, massive arms and hands of a gorilla, a long prehensile tail, legs with hooves and horns resembling a mythical faun, pointy elven ears, and sharp canine teeth. He flashed an eager smile.**

" **Garfield Logan? Beast-Boy? My name's Carrie Kelly. Batman sent us to free you all."**

" **I figured. But don't call me Beast-Boy. I think I've outgrown that name."**

" **Okay, how about… Menagerie-Man?"**

 **The young man stroked his chin, playing with his green goatee. "Hmmm, I like it! Menagerie-Man! Has that whole 'superhero' ring to it!"**

 **But Cyborg wasn't so happy, "Yeah, I hate to interrupt your brainstorming of marketable names and slogans, but can we get the hell outta here before the cops show up?"**

" **We got it covered," said Carrie. "We have this whole place barricaded. As soon as the rest of the prisoners are freed, and our tracks covered, we'll head back to the cave through the catacombs."**

 **As the insurgents plotted their getaway, a mysterious figure slipped through the gaps of the fence and into Arkham Asylum. Like a rat he navigated the ventilation system, keeping out of their line of sight. He was a silent, sinister huntsman, and his prey awaited below.**

" **damn, what'd they DO to you, Cy?" asked Menagerie-Man.**

" **What'd they do to ME?" asked Cyborg, "What did they do to YOU?!"**

" **Where'd your arms and legs go? And most of yer' armor's scrapped!"**

" **Stop!" Carrie yelled. "Do you guys hear that?"**

 **Carrie gazed up, and as they all listened, they heard a bone-chilling noise…**

" **Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha…"**

 **Slowly, Carrie reached for the sticky-bombs in her utility belt and was about to throw them onto the ceiling. But it was too little, too late. The ceiling burst open, and a horrible creature dropped in. He was a lean figure in a black suit, red cape boots and gloves, chalk-white face, wild red hair and a nightmarish grin. His bloodshot eyes stared directly at Carrie and conveyed a sinister thirst for carnage.**

 **"RUN!" Carrie screamed.**

 **The Bat-troopers and freed prisoners all bailed for the gorge in the hallway floor. They raced into the catacombs below, and the mysterious predator followed close behind.**

 **"Hahahahaha! I'm gonna getcha! I'm GONNA GETCHA!"**

 **Carrie dared to look back at him. He was a lunatic, the kind of person Arkham used to hold. People like…**

 _ **No! It can't be!**_ **She thought. This wasn't the Joker. The Joker died over ten years ago. His body was burned! This had to be someone else. Someone new.**

 **The new Joker was gaining speed, and his cackling grew as he got closer and closer to his prey. Like a lone wolf hunting a herd of panicking buffalo, he lunged with his arms out, and grabbed the person at the tail of the crowd… Starfire.**

 **"KORY!" wailed Cyborg, watching the whole thing unfold as a soldier carried him on his back.**

 **Starfire fell over, and the Joker sank his vampiric teeth into her weakened flesh. Starfire cried out in pain, tears running down her cheeks. "Run!" she pleaded "Save yourselves!"**

 **They ran, and her pleas were overpowered by the sounds of tearing flesh, crunching bones, and maniacal laughter.**

 **The troops and rescued superheroes navigated the catacombs, wandered through the sewer tunnels, down into the deepest, darkest caverns, until they made it back to the Central Batcave. Their mission was, for the most part, a success. They had rescued several metahumans and political prisoners. Arkham Asylum was compromised, it's premises searched for anything of strategic value. They left behind no physical evidence of their existence, much less to their connection to the Dark Knight. But they lost Starfire. To the Joker.**

 _ **Who WAS that guy?**_ **Carrie kept asking herself, as she paced back and forth in the war room. Whoever he was, he was extremely dangerous, and nearly cost them the entire mission.**

 **Now Carrie stood at the head of the war room's table, discussing the plan for their next field op. Cyborg and Menagerie-Man were busy planning Starfire's memorial service. There was no body for them to lay to rest, but that was more reason to give her one. Ray Palmer was writing down a list of materials and equipment needed to make a new Atom suit. And Plastic-Man was trying not to show how traumatized he really was by his whole experience at the asylum.**

 **"Alright, listen up!"**

 **The lieutenants all took their seats at the table, and Carrie directed their attention to the screen behind her. "Tomorrow night, Beta Squad will go down to Texas and attack this government facility," She pointed at the GPS map on display with her baton. "Security is even tighter here than it was in Arkham, so we're lucky to now have Plastic-Man join our ranks."**

 **Plastic-Man stood in the corner, raised his hand shyly, and waved at the lieutenants with a little smile. One of the most powerful and versatile metahumans on Earth, he could transform into countless different things, and has infiltrated some of the most impenetrable strongholds in existence. Batman once stated that even HE would have a hard time coming up with a combat strategy to defeat this man. The Pliable Prankster was many things; powerless was not one of them.**

 **Carrie resumed her briefing "We move in, secure the Asset, and we get the hell out in a…"**

 **Just as Carrie was finishing up, the war room doors swung open, and a woman rushed in with sorrowful passion. She was half-Asian with dazzling green eyes and wore a matching green coat. Carrie could tell that she'd been crying, and that she wouldn't let them remove her until she had her say.**

 **Carrie then recognized her from the team of reporters they had formed an alliance with. Her name was Linda.**

" **What is it?" Carrie asked.**

 **Linda looked down, and gently removed a ring from her hand, and gave it to Carrie.**

" **When you find my husband, tell him I miss him. And give this to him. He'll know what to do."**

 **Meanwhile, far, far north, a lonely old man grumbled and growled as he hiked across the arctic, trudging step by step towards his destination. He wore an all-black parka, which contrasted with the pure white setting around him. His face was entirely covered by a hood, scarf, and snow-goggles. He carried a massive backpack containing all the equipment needed for his voyage. After a long and unforgiving pilgrimage, the Fortress was in sight.**

 **Along the way, Bruce had stopped by Ted Kord's auto-repair shop, hoping to sign him up for the cause. But he was too late. The Blue-Beetle was murdered, and the police had already cleaned up the mess.**

 _ **So few of us left,**_ **Bruce contemplated.** _ **Heroes. Super or otherwise. Those who remain are dropping like flies.**_ **And they were rarely natural deaths. Jefferson Pierce was found with his heart ripped out, his family shredded into bite-sized pieces around him. Elongated-Man was blown up with his apartment, and half of the city block. Oliver went looking for Roy, but when he failed, returned to his safehouse and literally found a skeleton in his closet. The Question was riddled with bullets and left hanging from a streetlight. And now Ted. And Selina…**

 **Bruce's thoughts were interrupted when he finally reached to front door to the Fortress of Solitude. It was a massive golden slate, lodged into the base of the icy mountain, with Clark's insignia carved into it. Virtually indestructible, and so heavy that only Clark was strong enough to open it.**

 **Good thing he knew about the back door.**

 **Bruce took another fifteen minutes hiking around to the rear of the mountain. A circular hole was cut into the icy ground, exposing the arctic sea below. The intrepid Dark Knight removed his backpack, and dived into the hole, swimming down into freezing waters to access the Fortress. He had come this far, and was not going to return to the Cave empty-handed.**

 **Bruce swam, deeper and farther into the cold, dark grotto. His lungs were collapsing. He finally surfaced, gasping for precious air. Then he looked around. He made it.**

 **The Fortress of Solitude was a mighty castle built into the hollow mountain. The interior was a honeycomb of Kryptonian architecture, with four crystalline pillars serving as cornerstones, holding the magnificent structure together. Various chambers were connected by bridges, stairways, and levitating platforms. Bruce climbed a ladder out of the frigid pool and began exploring the Fortress.**

 **He passed through the armory, the celestial zoo, and master bedroom, and went straight to the central computer. Even his best Batcomputer couldn't match this technological wonder. Constructed from the same Kryptonian Sunstone as the entire Fortress, it contained millions of intricate files recounting the history, culture, science, and people of Krypton. It also had Clark's private log, where he recorded all his adventures and day-to-day life. Bruce prayed that there was a clue as to Clark's whereabouts.**

 **Clark's last entry was over nine years ago, just shortly before the Regime had seized control over the United States. Much to Bruce's disappointment, it contained no hints or indications as to where he went.** _ **Come on, Clark. Give me something. Anything! The world needs you.**_

 **Superman was missing in action.**

 **For years, Bruce held a grudge against Clark, believed he sold them out, gave in to the wishes of the people, no matter how wrong they were. He believed Clark had turned on his friends just to stay on the side of the law. Looking back now, Bruce realized it was wrong of him to judge his friend so harshly. Clark was a good man, just trying to do what was best for everyone.**

 _ **I know you meant well, Clark. I know you were just trying to help. To stop me from making more noise. From reminding people that giants walk the Earth. I'm sorry. Please, come back. I can't do this without you.**_

 **But as Bruce continued to read the last entry in Clark's private log, he discovered something else, something unexpected. It went:**

 _ **Superman's Private Log, Entry #773**_

 _ **It's been another productive day for Superman. But there's so much happening, so much chaos and bedlam since the Soviets launched the Coldbringer missile, and my powers are still taking time to recharge. Electricity has been restored through most of the country, but riots continue to plague several major cities. The economy is in freefall, and each passing day, more attempts are made on the President's life. It's been weeks since I've last had a chance to visit the Fortress, or a chance to visit Diana and Lara. A chance to just relax.**_

 _ **Who's Lara?**_

 **Bruce scrolled back to previous entries, and what he found shocked him. He may not have found Superman, but he discovered the next best thing.**


	5. Chapter 5

**PhineasFlash25** **'s**

 **THE DARK KNIGHT**

 **STRIKES AGAIN!**

 **A Fanfiction by** **PhineasFlash25**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **The Dark Knight Strikes Again**_ **,** _ **The Dark Knight Returns**_ **, or the DC Universe. This is a fanfiction so PLEASE DON'T SUE ME.**

 **After reading the actual sequel to Frank Miller's more acclaimed** _ **The Dark Knight Returns**_ **, I concluded that** _ **The Dark Knight Strikes Again**_ **had a lot of potential, and some genuinely cool ideas going for it. The basic premise of the novel (Lex Luthor having taken over the world, and DKR Batman must reunite his old superhero allies to stage a revolution) is a very cool premise. It's the EXECUTION of the premise, and all these little choices Frank Miller made throughout (plus the crazy art) that threw me and a whole bunch of other people off.**

 **So, I've decided to write my own fanfic version of** _ **The Dark Knight Strikes Again**_ **. I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Chapter 5:**

 **It's not easy to rule the world. Just ask Lex Luthor. The last ten years have been very demanding of him. So many people, so much land to cover, and so much paperwork! It simply isn't enough to take over the Earth, Lex needed to keep it all in check. It's all a machine, and he was the mechanic.**

 **It took a lot of time and planning for Lex to get here. Twenty-five years, in fact. After being bested time and again by Superman and his colorful friends, Lex knew he had to get rid of them, but no matter how many robots or how much kryptonite he would throw at them, they always came out on top. Lex decided to instead play the long-con and defeat them from an angle they wouldn't see coming or know how to fight back against. He turned the Justice League into criminals.**

 **Godfrey was an invaluable asset in Lex's plot to twist public perception against superheroes, and in favor of the Superhero Registration and Licensing Act. The Justice League could beat any monster, villain and natural disaster imaginable, but how could they fight the very people they swore to serve and protect? How could they fight the law?**

 **Superman of course fell in line, and the others followed his lead. Wonder-Woman returned to Themyscira, Green Lantern flew off into deep-space, and Aquaman descended to the bottom of the ocean, never heard from since. Even the Batman eventually gave in to retirement. Phase One was complete.**

 **The next step of Lex's master-plan was to infiltrate both the US Presidential Cabinet, and the Soviet Union's highest echelons of government. With direct influence over the two global superpowers, Lex furthered tensions between them. His sleeper agents orchestrated the skirmish in Corto Maltese, and when Superman swooped in and won the battle for America, as Lex knew he would, pushing the Soviets to retaliate with a Coldbringer missile was all too easy.**

 **That was Phase Two; escalate the Cold-War and plunge the United States into anarchy. With the country devastated by an enormous blackout and nuclear-winter, followed by riots, looters, and a collapsing economy, America would be desperate for salvation. And when all hope seemed lost, Lex Luthor, humanity's TRUE hero, would swoop in to the rescue.**

 **And now, Lex was striding through the hallways of his ivory tower, the Emperor Tower in the heart of Metropolis. A fitting name, as this was the central headquarters from which Lex micromanaged the entire continent. President Creighton served as a helpful proxy, an underling to serve as the face of his new world order, concealing the brain lurking behind her. In a perfect world, Lex would have taken all the credit for his own achievements, and put himself in the Whitehouse, and be the face as well as the brain. But those damn superheroes ruined his chances of that, when they exposed all his criminal activities back in the day. Everybody knew Lex Luthor was a villain, and so he was forced to retreat into the shadows, at least for now. Oh, how he missed being celebrated by numerous media channels, his name plastered on countless billboards, being seen and known as a brilliant philanthropist and benefactor of mankind. Now, he had finally won, finally taken over America, and soon the world, and he can't even let them know that it's him.**

 **Luthor pushed these thoughts aside and returned to the problem at hand.**

 **"You better have some good news for me, Mr. J," he said as he entered his office. Laying back in his chair, feet up on his desk, was the mysterious Joker from last night's attack on Arkham Asylum. He had his arms behind his head and showed off his menacing grin. Luthor's chief assassin was a very dangerous man to work with, but if he could fulfill his purpose, it would be worth the risk.**

 **"I missed you too," said Joker, "And yes, I do have some good news, AND bad news. Starfire's dead, and I know where the loser heroes are gonna strike next, but it's too late to stop them. You might wanna tell all the Southern state-barons to expect blackouts within the hour."**

 **Meanwhile, down in the countryside town of Blue-Valley, Texas, the Harrison Wells Energy Center was enjoying another quiet, peaceful night. Despite its remote location, this plant was the source for all the electricity from Phoenix, Arizona, to Nashville, Tennessee. It's the biggest power-plant in the world, but strangely enough, doesn't seem to consume any fuel, nor belch out any smoke, steam, or nuclear waste. If you ever asked how the plant generated electricity for such a large portion of the country, the answer would either be, "I have no idea", or "Sorry, but that's classified information".**

 **Because of its importance to the entire country, the energy center featured a massive security force, and defenses rivalling that of Area 51. Soldiers in yellow uniforms with red and black stripes patrolled the fortress 24/7. If anyone or anything got to the generator and sabotaged the mechanisms, all the electricity in the states of Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona, Louisiana, Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama, AND Tennessee would all black out. It's a dangerous strategy, putting all the southern states' energy into one basket, but apparently someone thought it was worth the risk.**

 **High above, using cloud-cover and stealth technology to mask their presence, a warplane carrying a squadron of bat-soldiers and the newly-recruited Plastic-Man circled the installation like a hawk. It was a Class-X, Mark 3 Batjet, used for transcontinental black-ops. In the cockpit, Carrie Kelly switched the jet's controls to auto-pilot, and then got up to address her troops. She put on her MEMORY-Cloth cape and bleeding-edge bat-helmet, complete with starlite lenses and pointy ears with radio-audio antennae. Fully armed and prepared, just like Bruce had taught her.**

 **"Alright boys, directly below us lies our target. Remember the plan; Phase One, we drop the giant smoke bomb to blind and confuse the guards, but no EMPs, considering the kind of facility we're invading. Phase Two, we open floor hatch and perform a HALO dive. We go in fast and open up our capes at the last possible moment. Phase Three, we reach the Central-Generator, blast open the steel doors, and secure the Asset. Then we're gone. Poof. Just like that."**

 **The troops all nodded and kept their game-faces on. They had trained for this, practiced simulations and studied the science and history of extreme tactical operations such as this. Each soldier was in peak physical condition and had achieved black-belt status in at least five martial arts. They were skilled marksmen, detectives, engineers, swordfighters, and masters of disguise. They each recited in their minds the motto that their founder had coined, a motivational phrase that every son and daughter of the Batman had learned to live by.**

 **Be Resourceful. Be Remarkable. Be Ready.**

 **The Batjet's belly opened, and first, it released a massive black metal sphere. The sphere plummeted down, down, down, like a meteor. By the time it reached the surface, it had built up a ton of momentum, crashing through the power-plant's roof, and exploding into an enormous black cloud of noxious smoke. None of the guards were prepared.**

 **One by one, the Bat Troopers jumped out of the Batjet, swiftly diving to meet the ground, wind blowing in their faces. Plastic-Man transformed into a big red-and-white missile, cut through the atmosphere, then turned into a paraglider, wings spread out to catch the air, and gently floated down, light as a feather. The Bat Troopers opened up their capes and also glided down for a soft landing. They aimed for the hole in the roof made by the fallen smoke bomb, using it as their point of entrance into the Energy Center's premises.**

 **"Alright boys, let's make this quick!"**

 **The Bat Troopers made quick work of the guards and security systems, while Carrie and Plastic-Man both made for the Central-Generator. As they rushed down a cold metallic hallway, Plastic-Man stretched out his legs to cover more ground with each of his strides, whistling a happy tune while he did so. Carrie vaguely recognized the tune from a really old movie she saw as a kid,** _ **The Wizard of Oz**_ **. Then Plastic-Man started singing his own fake lyrics.**

 _ **"We're off to the save the Flash, the Fastest Man Alive! He's Swift and he's Smart, his speed is an art, and with him we'll never say die!"**_

 **Indeed. As they reached the final obstacle, a humongous titanium door with multiple locks and security measures, Carrie wondered just how much of the stories were true. Behind this door, over half of the country's electricity was being generated by ONE MAN, a man who for 10 years, has been forced to RUN, run at faster-than-light speeds nonstop inside a gigantic dynamo, like somebody's pet hamster. His name was Wally West. The Flash. The Fastest Man Alive.**

 **Even behind the 3-feet of titanium, Carrie and Plastic-Man could hear the deafening hum of electric motors. The wall and door were vibrating frantically, shaken by the raw power being generated on the other side. Carrie turned to Plastic-Man. The Pliable Prankster grinned. Carrie's explosives weren't going to be enough to bust open this barrier. But he was more than enough. Plastic-Man leaped into the air, did a backflip, and when he hit the floor, he had transformed into a cartoon circus cannon. Carrie jumped out of the way, and then BLAM! A massive hole was made in the center of the door.**

 **Plastic-Man warped back to his human shape, and nonchalantly brushed his shoulders, sweeping off the ashes leftover from the cannon fire.**

 **With great caution, Carrie stepped through the hole and entered the Central-Generator. What she saw was beyond stunning. A gigantic apparatus of lights, cables, gears, tesla-coils, and more, towered over her. And at the base of this mechanism, was a human-sized hamster wheel, spinning at incomprehensible velocities, and blazing with the most brilliant scarlet light Carrie had ever seen. Red-and-Yellow bolts of electricity surged around the wheel, and up into the machine, which translated the boundless kinetic-energy into electrical power for over 50% of the United States.**

 **Carrie couldn't see a thing though the blazing red radiance coming from the generator's key component. She tightly closed her eyes and placed her hand over her face. What was she going to do?! How was she ever going to get him out?**

 **Then she remembered.**

 **"MISTER WEST!" she cried at the top of her lungs, fighting over the whirring noise of the generator. "WALLY! I'M HERE TO RESCUE YOU! YOUR WIFE… TOLD ME TO GIVE YOU THIS!"**

 **Carrie reached into her pocket and pulled out the ring given to her by Linda, displaying it for the bright light to see.**

 **The ring was gold with a lightning-bolt insignia in the center. Apparently, it had a fancy gadget of some kind hidden inside. Whatever it was, Carrie hoped it would help with their rescue mission.**

 **Almost instantly, the spinning stopped. A shockwave blasted across the room and wreaked havoc on Carrie's eardrums. In the place of the furious, raging red light, a man laid down on his knees and palms, heaving gasps of air. He was half-naked save for his Red-and-Yellow boxer shorts, and his lean, weary body was still glowing red-hot from the kinetic and thermal energy he was producing. He had wild red hair and a beard that looked like it hadn't been shaved in months, or perhaps even years. He turned to stare at his liberators, with bright emerald green eyes that had been dimmed by a decade of slave labor. This man had been running at faster-than-lightspeeds nonstop for so long, and now he finally was given a chance to catch his breath. He stared at Carrie with both relief and confusion.**

 **"Who are you?"**

 **"I'm Carrie Kelly, Batgirl. Bruce sent me to rescue you."**

 **"Bruce? Sweet, I was hoping that whole fight with Clark was just a ruse. Is Linda…?"**

 **"Your wife is okay, she's with us. She misses you. She wanted me to give you…"**

 **It's on his finger before she even sees him move. He clenched his hand into a fist and pumped it out, and a scarlet suit ejected from the ring. In a blink of an eye, the man was wearing a bright red uniform with yellow belt, boots, gloves, and a yellow lightning bolt emblazoned on his chest. He flipped on a red cowl with golden lenses and matching yellow earpieces with sharp wings. "Hah! Still fits!"**

 **"So," Asked the Flash, "I assume Bruce gave you an exit strategy?" Carrie was still frozen, wide-eyed, astonished by the sight of this living legend from before her time. It felt like her first few interactions with Bruce, only this man wasn't nearly as stern.**

 **"Uhhh, kid? Did Bruce give you an exit strategy?"**

 **"Oh, right! Yeah, ummm, it's, well… you."**

 **The Flash laughed. "Fair enough. Better hold on tight, kid."**

 **(0.002 Seconds later)**

 **VOOSH! A streak of red light cut through space like a samurai's katana and stopped instantly. Carrie looked around. They weren't in the facility anymore. They were in the middle of a desert, nothing but dirt, rocks and shrubs as far as the eye could see. "Where are we? Arizona?"**

 **"Australia." Flash replied. "Always liked Australia. Lots of wide-open spaces to just run."**

 **Carrie did some quick math in her head. The distance between the Australian outback and Blue-Valley Texas was over 9,800 miles. Over 9,800 miles in 0.002 seconds. She used the formula for speed, (Speed=Distance/Time) converted the miles per second into miles per hour, compared it to lightspeed, and she concluded that the Flash must have been moving at least** **25 TIMES** **the Speed of LIGHT!**

 **"This is SO FREAKING COOL!"**

 **"Always happy to impress," the Flash said with a smile.**

 **"I hope Bruce is doing as well as we are…"**

 **Meanwhile, On the frostbitten docks of Dunderhead Harbor, an uncharted settlement in the Nunavut regions of northern Canada, a lonely ship treaded through the icy waters to meet the rickety old pier. Dunderhead Harbor had a population of less than 200, most of which were Canadian or Nordic pirates and smugglers. Its remote location made it an ideal place to hide from civilization, provided that you could stand the sub-zero temperatures, or a diet of half-cooked squid and baby-seals. The only electricity comes from an old worn-out generator in the local pub, which is used to power the oven and stove. The main exports were poached Polar Bear skins and Fool's Gold. And the community's favorite pastime is drinking contests. It's a cold, gruff, insignificant speck on the world map.**

 **The ship approaching the pier was a custom-made war vessel, purchased on the Black-Market through "aggressive negotiation tactics". Emblazoned on the side, in forest-green paint, was the ship's name:** _ **Queen's Gambit III**_ **.**

 **Bruce Wayne was waiting on the pier for several hours, in his dark winter coat and backpack. Cold, sleep-deprived and near starvation, he nonetheless endured it without complaint. Now his friend was finally here to meet him.**

 **The boat came to a stop, and out came an old man in a green camouflage military jacket and hood. He had an unkempt white beard, and a black cybernetic left-arm. His name was Oliver Queen. The Green-Arrow.**

 **"So, I take it you didn't find the Schoolboy."**

 **Oliver had held a grudge against Clark for years, ever since they had their little disagreement about the Registration and Licensing Act. Oliver lost his left-arm and was locked up in Belle Reve Penitentiary in Louisiana. Years later he escaped, and had been travelling the country as an anonymous crimefighter ever since.**

 **"Clark's still MIA, but I might have an alternative. Think you can sail this hunk of junk to Themyscira?"**

 **Oliver smiled. "Oh yeah, I like where this is going…"**


End file.
